How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnish'd, not to shine in use!
As tho' to breathe were life! Life piled on life
Were all too little, and of one to me
Little remains: but every hour is saved
From that eternal silence, something more,
A bringer of new things; and vile it were
For some three suns to store and hoard myself,
And this gray spirit yearning in desire
To follow knowledge like a sinking star,
Beyond the utmost bound of human thought

Just because it's all pimples and hormones and frustration right now doesn't mean it's never going to change.

Byron: We barely even scavenge anymore.
Alcatraz: You call it stagnation, I call it balance.
Byron: And I call you an idiot.

Not all things must be balanced. When good is weighted against evil, tip the scale.

The world is so much bigger than we are. It contains things that we can't even imagine, and if we limit outselves to our own minds, we'll never grow.